"My body?"
Alastair recoiled, then narrowed his eyes, studying the shadow in silence.
"I refuse," he said at last.
"Even without relying on you, I have my own way."
He had no intention of surrendering his body.
Moreover, he already possessed a method to resurrect Grace.
This pointless conversation was about to end.
Hyde and Vera were behind him now.
If he moved now, dragged them away, and forced Hyde to open a spatial gate before the Soul Sovereign could act, it might still be possible.
After all, the being's soul was bound here, unable to move freely.
The real problem was that this Soul Sovereign could read his thoughts.
He had to act before it could prepare a countermeasure.
Alastair reached for Hyde and Vera, ready to flee.
"You already know that the method you devised is flawed," the shadow said.
"Are you truly prepared to live the rest of your life with an imperfect Grace?"
Alastair froze.
The words struck him.
He halted mid-motion and turned back to face the shadow, saying nothing, waiting to hear more.
"Resurrecting Grace by fusing two souls that have both already acquired new memories," the shadow continued,
"will never be perfect."
"Even if you reverse time to restore her original memories and erase the new ones, only fragments will return."
"The woman who awakens will no longer be the Grace you knew."
It paused.
"And with your current abilities, there is a thirty percent chance that her soul will shatter during the fusion."
"How, then, would you advise me?" Alastair asked, frowning.
He had always known his plan was flawed.
It could never be perfect.
For Charlotte and Sybil, Grace's memories from a thousand years ago were little more than faint echoes.
Even if Vera reversed Charlotte's soul to the moment before Grace's memories were erased, only fragments would resurface.
Yet it was Alastair's only hope.
Even a fragment of recognition would be enough.
The real danger was this:
With his power, there was a thirty percent chance Grace's soul would be destroyed.
What he was attempting was nothing more than a gamble.
He had already resolved himself that if he failed—if her soul shattered—he would destroy his own soul and follow her.
…Could there truly be a method with a guaranteed outcome?
"With my power," the shadow said, its voice filled with confidence,
"I can extract every fragment of Grace's memories from both souls and restore them in perfect clarity."
"It does not matter how many lifetimes have passed, or how long a thousand years may be."
"But first, that girl must rewind the fragment of the soul to the moment before Grace's memories were erased."
"As for the success rate of the fusion… ninety-nine percent."
"What?"
Alastair staggered back, staring at the shadow in disbelief.
Was such a thing possible because it was a Soul Sovereign?
It seemed impossible.
And yet, the Soul Sovereign was little more than a legend in his world.
He had no true understanding of what such an entity was capable of.
Despite himself, hope stirred deep within his chest.
If this were true…
Grace would return as Grace herself.
And the fusion would almost certainly succeed.
Just imagining her awakening, gazing at him with the same love in her eyes as before—
as if the horrors of the past thousand years had been nothing more than a long sleep—
Alastair's breath caught in his throat.
His heart hammered against his ribs.
Calm yourself. Think carefully.
This is too good to be true.
It is far more likely that he seeks my body.
"How can I trust your words?" Alastair asked, forcing himself to remain composed.
"Heh heh heh…"
"Why not begin with introductions?" the shadow replied.
"My name is Belmuth. I am an ancient demon who has existed for tens of thousands of years."
"My enemies destroyed my body and bound my soul to this throne ten thousand years ago."
"The only way for me to be freed is to obtain a body compatible with my soul."
"And after searching for countless years…"
"I have finally found it."
The final words trembled with unmistakable excitement.
"And you?" Belmuth asked.
"What is your name, my future vessel?"
"My name is Alastair," his voice did not waver.
"But do not expect me to give you my body."
"If I restore Grace to you in perfect form," Belmuth asked,
"would you then surrender your body to me?"
"Why must it be mine?" Alastair demanded.
"Why not another? Why search for thousands of years?"
"My soul is… exceptional," Belmuth answered.
"Only a body forged through the highest level of soul arts could withstand it."
Understanding dawned as Alastair glanced toward Maya, trembling on the ground nearby.
No wonder he had called her unsuitable.
Hyde and Elijah must have lured her here, hoping to offer her body as a vessel.
If I had not come, she would already be possessed.
"Elijah," Belmuth thundered, turning his gaze toward Maya,
"how dare you offer me such a vessel. You insult me."
"My lord, forgive me," Elijah said, bowing low.
"She is the only one I know who has reached the highest level of soul arts."
"You expected me," Belmuth roared,
"Belmuth himself, to inhabit a woman's body?"
His aura surged, crushing the air with immense pressure.
"Worse still, she is a low-ranking demon. Utterly unworthy."
Elijah trembled beneath the weight of Belmuth's power.
"Enough," Belmuth said at last.
"You are fortunate that you managed to bring me the body I truly desire."
"I shall forgive you."
"And I will grant you what you seek—after I claim his body."
He laughed, pleased.
"Thank you, My lord," Elijah said, exhaling in relief as he bowed once more.
"Elijah," Carla demanded,
"what did you trade for this?"
"That is none of your concern," Elijah replied.
"How can it not be?" Carla snapped.
"You're bringing an ancient demon into this world! Do you even care that your actions could doom everything?"
Elijah gave a low laugh.
"If you're so curious, I'll tell you."
"I traded for immortality."
Carla and Vera both gasped.
"…Immortality?" Carla repeated.
"You mean—by becoming a demon?"
"Why?" she demanded.
"Why would you choose that?"
"Is it really that hard to understand?" Elijah sneered.
"Human life is short, fragile, and fleeting. We age quickly. We die easily."
"Why should someone as powerful as me accept such a fate?"
"A demon lives forever. Eternal youth. Eternal beauty."
The calm, dignified man from the photographs was gone.
In his place stood something twisted, smiling like a monster already reborn.
"Why—" Carla began—
—but Alastair raised a hand, cutting her off.
"Enough," he said.
"I don't have time for this."
He turned back to Belmuth.
"Continue."